Silk Spun Spiderwebs
by sawyers2hot
Summary: A Drarry fanfic. This starts in their fifth year and continues for quite some time after school. Everything is the same up til the beginning of their fifth year. Mature for language and suggestion. Hope you enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy had never wanted to die, not _really_, but at that moment, he prayed for spontaneous combustion.

His desire for an untimely demise had nothing to do with the fact that his father had joined the Death Eaters and was talking about having Draco initiated. It also did not have to do with Draco's failing grades, his sorry excuse for a girlfriend, or his annoyance with the rest of the world. It didn't even matter that he was going home this summer to a house he was terrified to be in.

No, it had nothing to do with any of those things.

The fact was that Draco Malfoy wanted very, very badly to have a cardiac arrest at that moment because Harry Potter, of all the godforsaken people on this spiteful, backwards planet, was making out with him in the middle of the Great Hall.

He wondered if he had ever been so simultaneously embarrassed, enraged, and astonished at the same time. The unhappy and unfortunate flashback of being turned into a ferret came to mind, but, somehow, it paled in comparison from what was happening right now.

He knew this day should not have turned out this way. It had been a pleasantly normal morning, and he'd even gotten a box of chocolates from his mother. He'd even frightened a gaggle of first year Hufflepuffs by pretending to talk in Parseltongue halfway to the Hall. He'd sat down with his friends, chatted up with Blaise Zambini, had some bacon, drank some pumpkin juice from his goblet, and had had a rather nice autumn morning up until the point he'd caught Harry bloody Potter staring at him.

It'd all gone rather downhill from there.

Draco was used to being stared at, for he was rich, pretty and perfect, and half expected everyone to look up to him anyway. And it was not so unexpected to find Potter staring at him, for it had happened on several occasions before, especially after they'd had a particularly nasty encounter. It was not that Potter was staring at him, per se. It was the _way_ he was looking at him.

Now, there were several ways Harry Potter tended to stare at Draco Malfoy with. There was the common, I-hate-you-go-die glare that accompanied passing through the halls on their way to class. If they stopped to snarl at each other for a moment, Potter's face would contort into the I-want-to-wring-your-perfect-neck-and-I-really-would-except-Dumbledore-would-expel-me-and-I-really-hate-my-relatives-so-I'm-letting-you-off-the-hook-this-time. Or, if things were really becoming vicious, Potter would eventually get the Fuck-this-you're-a-bloody-fucking-git-and-I'm-going-to-pound-your-face-into-the-wall-so-you-better-start-running-nancy-boy look, which was soon followed by a hasty (but dignified) retreat on Draco's part, and much snickering about it later.

Draco was used to all that. In fact, he sometimes looked forward to a round or two with his old nemesis, especially if he was in a good mood.

The look he was receiving today, however, was nothing like he'd ever seen on Potter's face before.

Often when he caught the Gryffindor looking at him from across the hall, the look was full of despise and malicious intent, though he quickly lowered his head and pretended he'd never been looking in the first place.

This, unfortunately, was not that look.

It was…a lustful look.

Now, Draco Malfoy, being as rich, as pretty and as perfect as he was, was not unfamiliar with these sorts of expressions. Sometimes passing in the halls, he caught girls of various houses, younger and older, giving him that same, lusty, unrequited glance. In class he occasionally looked up to see a girl blush and glance away from where she'd previously been giving him "the eye." In fact, Draco had even seen a few _guys_ give him that look, though he spared them (well, _most_ of them) the embarrassment of later vicious rumors originating from their source of love interest.

He did not, however, expect in a million, trillion, googolplex years, for _Harry_ bloody _Potter_, Lord of Gryffindor, Son of the Lucky Gods, the Golden Boy and Master of Death, to be giving Draco Malfoy, _himself_, that particular expression.

Draco had a fork halfway to his mouth, and gaped at the Gryffindor across the Hall, his eyes more intense and focused than even in their worst fights. They seemed to sparkle like bloody emeralds, flashing in the sunlight peaking through the clouds above. He licked his lips slowly and seductively as he stared at Draco, and Malfoy felt a hard coldness in his stomach. He looked to his left, and then to his right, but could find no one else Potter would give that expression to. No Weasleys or Grangers or Changs in sight, and somehow Draco did _not_ think Potter was looking at Crabbe or Goyle that way. Slowly, Draco looked back at Potter, a thick, ugly sense of unease filling his stomach and oozing down his intestines.

Presently Potter was on his feet, and abruptly leapt over the Gryffindor table, catching the surprised glances of much of his house. He strode several feet and then leapt smoothly over the Hufflepuff table, to the irked cries of several people with trod on fingers. He was making a straight beeline for Draco with that damned expression plastered all over his face, his cloak flying all around him like the great beating of black wings. Draco thought he rather looked like Death coming towards him, and briefly hoped he would be smote on the spot, and not have to deal with whatever Potter thought he wanted.

By the time Potter had vaulted over the Ravenclaw table, he had the attention of nearly everyone in the Hall. Everyone watched in curiosity, amusement or amazement as he leapt onto the Slytherin table and crouched down, staring Malfoy straight in the face, still giving him that look.

"Potter, you're in my breakfast," snapped Draco, voice much calmer than he actually was. He had not spent time around dozens of psychopathic maniacs such as his father's friend and lived to tell about it by showing what he really felt. His cold glare dissolved into one of half terror, however. Potter was eyeing him in a way that seemed to suggest that _Draco_ was his breakfast.

"Wha-" Draco caught himself, and cleared his throat, putting on his normal sneer again. "What do you _want_, Potter."

Potter's mouth widened into a wicked, wicked grin that made Draco's heart sink and his eyes widen. He leaned as far back in his chair as he could, willing his legs to pick up and run, but he seemed to be frozen in place.

"I just wanted you to know, Malfoy," uttered Potter in a tone that Draco had never heard come out of his mouth before. The Gryffindor leaned in so close his nose almost touched the blonde's. He glasses fogged up with his hot, ragged breathing, and for some reason Draco thought he looked just like a starved vampire. Potter took a breath and whispered ever so slowly, "I. Hate. You."

Whatever _that_ was supposed to accomplish, Draco wasn't sure, but any calm thought was presently lost as Potter launched himself at Draco, and they both landed on the floor with a noisy thud, the chair dashed away with a great clatter. The air was knocked out of Draco, and for a moment he lay there, dazed with Potter on top him, not quite sure what had just happened. Once again, however, any time for sane thought was lost as the Gryffindor promptly dug his fists into Draco's shirt and pulled him up for a hot, wet kiss.

Now, of all the things that had just happened, including the lustful expression on Potter's face, somehow Draco had not thought that this was what was going to happen. Perhaps he thought that Potter was just going to make some foul joke or crack at his family, and walk away laughing. Or perhaps he thought Potter was only going to pretend to like him just to get nasty rumors spread about Draco, and thus triumph in whatever sick goal he had in the first place.

Somehow, Draco did not think, despite all the signs of the past two minutes that Harry bloody Potter was actually going to kiss him. And yet, here he was with a Gryffindor's tongue in his mouth and the whole of the Great Hall watching.

Some primal instinct kicked in at the thought of everyone seeing this, and Draco brought up a knee – hard – into Potter's groin. The boy gave a sharp cry and released Draco from a tight grasp, and the Slytherin scrambled up, panting in great heaves and staring at Potter with a look of utter loathing and surprise.

"Wha…wha…" gasped Draco, eyes round as a goldfish as he stared at the other curled up on the floor. "P-potter, you, you…" But whatever Malfoy was about to call Harry, no one ever found out, because the next moment Potter was up and smiling maliciously at Draco.

"You little shite," he grinned evilly, staring at his prey upon the floor. Draco gaped, frozen again. "Come here, Malfoy." He stepped towards the Slytherin, but something in Draco's mind clicked, and then he was up and bolting down the hall. He heard Potter give chase, his ragged pants loud and determined. Malfoy dashed along the Slytherin table and nearly gave a shriek when Potter's fingers scraped his back. He screeched around the corner of the table, but Potter, unfortunately, vaulted over the end of the table and slammed hard into Draco, once again knocking them to the ground.

"Now hold still, you little shite," he hissed seductively as he caught Malfoy's struggling arms in his hands and pinned him down so he could barely move. The Gryffindor's face was wild with lust and he looked like something dragged from the center of the Forbidden Forest. Something in heat, that is. He leaned close, hot breaths laden over Draco's mouth. "Hold still. You don't know how terribly bad I want to f.." Whatever he'd been about to say, however, came to an abrupt end as Potter froze as stiff as a board on top Malfoy and toppled over sideways. Draco scrambled back and scratched his way up the pair of closest legs he could find, much like a terrified cat. He looked up, wide-eyed, at the face of Ron Weasley, whose wand was pointed at Potter and who was looking at Malfoy with the exact same expression as on Draco's face. He stared at the Slytherin open-mouthed for a moment, until he seemed to come back to reality, and kicked Draco away before striding over to Potter.

Draco watched, still half-dazed, half-petrified with fear, as Weasley crouched beside Potter and stared intently at his face, as though searching for the meaning of the past three minutes. Several students, who looked just as shell-shocked, gathered around Potter, muttering worriedly.

The twin Weasleys had come up behind the crowd and were looking slightly dazed.

"You know, George," said one of them, staring at Potter. "I think next time we'll have to go a wee lighter on the Aphrodite petals."

"I rather think you're right, Fred," said the other, obviously George.

Then, to everyone's surprise, they started to laugh long and hard, until they were gasping for breath, receiving a number of not amused glances from the crowd. Ron Weasley was giving them a very hard look, and snarled, pointing at Potter, "What did you do to him?"

The twins continued to guffaw, however, and suddenly Draco understood. Had those…those _maniacs_ done something to Potter to make him crazy? _They_ made him attack Draco? No one, not in the history of all things Draco, had anyone _ever_ made him have a worse morning.

Suddenly, Draco was no longer shell-shocked or dizzy. Nor was he any longer on the ground. He stood, shaking with unsuppressed rage and bellowed, "I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, YOU BLOODY ARSEHOLES!"

Even this did not deter the twins' gaieties. It seemed to have the opposite effect, and they let loose another round of hoots. Snarling somewhat animal-like, Draco was about to charge over and rip their necks out when a hard hand caught his shoulder and held him in place.

"That's _enough_," intoned the low, cold voice of Professor Snape. The twins stopped laughing and suddenly didn't look quite so amused. Ron Weasley had started to drag up Potter from the ground where he lay frozen, but now stared worriedly at Snape, as though the professor would somehow find a way to blame him and Potter for this mess.

"You two, my office, now," barked a livid looking Professor McGonagal, coming up behind the twins.

"Well, George," muttered the other twin (Draco had already forgotten his name) as they slunk off behind McGonagal. "It was worth it."

"Couldn't agree more," said George, and they both snickered. Professor McGonagal didn't seem to find this quite as funny as they did, and grabbed them both by an ear and lead them angrily from the Hall.

"Weasley, Granger, take Potter to the Hospital Wing," snapped Professor Snape, his hand still on Draco's shaking shoulder.

Granger, who had appeared from out of nowhere, quickly squeaked, "Yes, Professor," and she and Weasley dragged Potter off.

Draco's seething quickly dwindled into embarrassment, and he shrugged off Snape's hand, glaring at the ground. He strode quickly from the Hall to the dungeons, and didn't even keep his head up like his father would have told him to.

The moment he stepped down the first stair the Hall broke into gales of suppressed laughter, and Draco's face burned hot red, and he found it very hard to blink back the angry, embarrassed tears that flooded his eyes. The world looked skewed and watery, and he cursed the Weasley twins for ever being born. Whatever they had done to Potter, be it love potion or something of their own foul creation, Draco Malfoy was going to get back at them, if it was the last thing he ever did.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco Malfoy had never wanted to die, not really, but at that moment, he prayed for spontaneous combustion

Chapter Two: Repercussions

Plans for revenge were thwarted, however, by the fact that the Weasley twins had been given so much detention they might as well have been in Siberia, and that Draco Malfoy had never been so embarrassed in his life.

It would not have been so bad, perhaps, had Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zambini and all his other close friends not found it completely hilarious, and not been led to gales of snorts and snickers every time Draco entered the room. No amount of threats or retorts or glares from the poor Slytherin could deter their amusement, and any level of displeasure on his part only ended in Pansy or Blaise falling into fits of giggles. Often Pansy recounted that dreadful morning (although she seemed to think of it as the funniest moment of her life) with her friends, and each time she told it, it got less and less appropriate. By the time Draco snapped at her to shut up about it already, she described it as though Potter had stripped Draco naked and ravished him right in front of all the Professors. Draco _did not _enjoy the image that put in his head, and a hex was on the tip of his tongue before Pansy gave him a kiss and calmed him.

"Don't worry, love," she murmured against his snarling lips. "You know I just like to have my fun now and again. I shan't say another word about it."

And that was that, at least on her part, for which Draco was somewhat grateful. The rest of the school, unfortunately, was another matter. Blaise Zambini was already spreading wild rumors about how Potter had devised the potion himself and used it just so he could finally get a taste of Malfoy. Now, had it been anyone but himself, Draco would have found the gossip rather entertaining, and would have regularly congratulated Blaise on its brilliance.

Draco Malfoy was familiar as familiarity could get when it came to gossip. In fact, he had started so many rumors in the past five years that he had long since outstripped most of the Slytherin rumor-starters, who were well known as the kings and queens of hearsay. Yet, in all his past years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, he had never been so subject to its flames. Sure, he'd experienced several bouts of nasty rumors spread about himself, especially after his father had bought those Nimbus 2001's for the Slytherin Quidditch team in his second year, or that time when he and Potter had been stuck together in the middle of the Forbidden Forest for detention (although _those _rumors hadn't been nearly as indecent as the ones circulating now).

As it was, Draco Malfoy was not having a very good start to the year.

Potter didn't seem to be faring much better, either. He'd experienced much worse rumor spreading, Draco knew (as he'd made sure of it), but nothing quite like this. Even the rumors about him and that Asian girl hadn't been this bad.

As Pansy told it, Potter had woken in the hospital with a roaring headache, clear memory and full control over his extremities. Weasley and Granger, of course, had been there to comfort him, or whatever it was they thought they should be doing. Draco could imagine Weasley's stupid face gaping at Potter as though he were his god, and that little Mudblood whimpering with pity as she asked Harry if he were all right.

Draco found he wished his friends had been so sympathetic, and then quickly berated himself for such thoughts. He was no bitch, after all, and whining about his choice of friends surely wasn't going to help his situation.

So, after poor, innocent Potter had woken, Madam Pomfrey had given him a clean bill of health and a Sleeping Draught for that night, and he'd been sent off to classes. Potter, unlike Draco, went to his classes, even to Potions apparently. What Potter thought he could accomplish by going to classes, Malfoy wasn't sure, but he expected it had something to do with Gryffindor dignity or some bullshit like that.

Our Slytherin hero was not, unlike some dark-haired and green-eyed people, stupid, and stayed in the dungeons for the rest of the day catching up on missed homework and not thinking about that morning. This may or may not have worked to his advantage, although, as the rumors spread as equally and as quickly for him as for Potter.

That night Pansy wandered into his room while everyone else was out chattering or playing in the common room. Her short hair was straight and fluffy against her head, and her round eyes twinkled at Draco's form on the bed.

"You've got that nasty glint in your eye," grumbled Draco. "What've you been saying about me now?"

Pansy only laughed and tossed her head as she slid next to him on the sheets. She wore a necklace of tiny, round pearls, and they glowed ghost-like in the moonlight coming through the high windows. It slid along her collarbone as she leaned against Draco's chest, and he thought suddenly he hated her, and loved her, very much. She leaned her back against his front and flipped her arms smoothly and leisurely around his neck, as though reminding him whom he belonged to. She was like a cat in many ways, Draco thought, running his hands down her flat stomach. Possessive, cruel, loving, distasteful, haughty, playful, and devious. She was the definition of love and hate, if there ever was one.

She sighed, and he felt her lungs collapse and expand beneath his hands. Her ribs poked through her skin, and made slight bumps in her white blouse. Any other day and Draco would have immediately ripped off her clothes and done terribly indecent things in the empty room, but his desire, and libido, weren't in it tonight.

Pansy was not deterred from trying, however.

"Bad day, love?" she purred, running a hand up and down slowly along his thigh.

"Don't remind me," groaned Draco, thinking about anything but that Gryffindor's tongue down his throat. "I've never been so bloody embarrassed in my life."

"Just think how wonderful tomorrow's going to be!" she perked, and Draco growled into her ear. She laughed, and flipped over, somehow managing to stay untangled. She pulled herself slowly up to his face, pushing hard against his crotch, and Malfoy couldn't help but feel some desire stir in his center. Her round, pink lips curled up into something that was both a sneer and a teasing grin, and her plain eyes met his own perfect ones.

"Don't worry," she said for the second time. "You know as well as I how quickly interests can change in a group of people. Today they'll be whispering about your love life, the next they'll be back to the Weird Sisters. Two weeks time, no one will remember what even happened."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"Pessimistic as usual," she tittered, shaking her head. She ran butterfly kisses along his lips before pulling back. "You are not so popular as you think, Mr. Malfoy."

"Is _that _what you think?" growled Draco, though his mouth curled into a smile. Without fail, Pansy could always make him laugh. Perhaps she was useful in that way. Perhaps that was part of why he loved her.

Grinning, she drew a tongue along his cheek and down his neck and sucked lightly on the crick between his neck and shoulders. He sighed and stroked her hair once, and said without much passion, "I hate you."

"Isn't that what _he _said?" she grinned viciously into his neck. "Right before he snogged you straight off the table?"

Snarling somewhat animal-like, Draco flipped her off him and bared his teeth at her face. She bared her own right back. They glared at each other, as though trying to gain dominance on either side.

Then he ravished her until he didn't think about that boy's lips on his anymore.

~*~

Eventually people shut up about Potter's kiss, and eventually, like Pansy said, people forgot the kiss had ever happened. It was past Halloween by then, and rain fell daily on the castle grounds. Draco himself blocked the event from his mind, and never thought about it, except when he was feeling particularly self-conscious. He began to enjoy the year after some time, especially after getting to know the detestable Professor Umbridge. She reminded him of some of his father's friends, and shared many of his father's views in fact, but Draco didn't mind that so much. Father wanted him to get to know powerful people in the ministry, and Umbridge was most definitely one of them.

She was a horrid woman, that was for sure, but Draco had grown up around horrid people, and knew quite well how to hide his distaste. Besides, she let him go about pretending to speak in Parseltongue to scare first-years, so she couldn't be that bad.

Potter didn't seem to agree, however, and went about getting himself detention nearly as soon as he'd met her, much to Draco's pleasure. At least it efficiently redirected the gossip from Draco to Potter.

Malfoy didn't see his nemesis much in fact, save for the occasional glance in the corridors, where both of them would look away quickly. Sometimes, just for the fun of it, Draco would fantasize about Potter kissing him for real, but he was quickly grew bored or disgusted with himself, and went to find Pansy for a night of snogging.

After some time, much of the year flew by cheerfully, and Draco never really saw Potter. He watched as Umbridge took over the castle and created her own little dictatorship, and Malfoy went along with it, mainly because he loved power, but also because he enjoyed a little chaos now and again. He heard the occasional rumor about Potter trying to thwart Umbridge or something silly like that, but was not very much interested in what Potter did with his free time. He felt a little affronted that Umbridge kept Potter from playing Quidditch, as he enjoyed any excuse to get violent with his nemesis, but supposed it was for the best anyway. He didn't want to risk having himself reminded of that rather unfortunate incident in September during the middle of a match.

It was not until Umbridge started firing teachers that Draco worried he might be a little in over his head, but couldn't help but feel pleased that Hagrid was no longer stalking the grounds like the great oaf he was.

"She's one crazy bitch, you know?" he commented lightly to Blaise one evening over a game of Wizard Chess. They were in their quarters, and everyone else was out in the common room, or playing outside in the snow. They sat in the two chairs positioned for this exact game, and a little fire was lit in the hearth next to them.

"Who, your girlfriend?"

Malfoy glared daggers, but didn't stop the shrug that took over his shoulders.

"Yes, well, I mean Umbridge," he quipped, looking back at the board. Blaise was about to make an illegal move with his Rook, and Draco's own set let off a round of angry shouts. Blaise grinned almost guiltily and moved his hand away.

"Yeah, she is," he replied easily. "Took you long enough to notice."

"I noticed the moment she stepped up to the podium," sneered Draco, remembering all too well the Professor's first day at the school. "All I'm saying is she's off her rocker a bit. I daresay she's spent too much time with my father and his crowd."

"Or vice versa," grinned Blaise maliciously. Draco tossed one of Blaise's pawns into the fire in retaliation, and it was a frowning Slytherin that sat up a few moments later, getting the ash off a charcoaled game piece with his wand.

"Perhaps, Draco," Blaise commented, placing the newly cleaned pawn back onto the board to the victorious cheers of its comrades. "You would like to join sides with a certain lover who kisses particularly viciously?"

Truly irritated this time, Draco snarled and snatched at Blaise's queen, but the other boy was too fast. He caught Draco's wrist in his hand and wrenched him across the table, knocking the chess pieces in all directions. The pieces flew with cries of indignation, and Draco gave his own cry of surprise as Blaise jerked him across the table.

"What do you want, Draco?" Blaise hissed into Malfoy's ear, his lips hot and wet. Draco jerked back and struggled to get away, but Blaise's grip was vice-like, and he flipped Draco onto the chair he'd previously been seated in and straddled him in the blink of an eye.

"Blaise-" squawked Draco, a strange fear settling in his stomach as Blaise stared at him with hungry eyes. But they were not the same hungry eyes Potter had given to him that day so many weeks ago. They were filled with a malicious, cruel hunger, one that desired only to see other's squirm and squeal with pain. Draco quailed and grew still as Blaise took both his wrists and leaned close to his face.

"What do you _want_?" he hissed again. He bent his face and drew a tongue along Malfoy's ear, making him shiver, but not with arousal. Zambini could hurt him, and they both damn well knew it. "Do you want to join your boyfriend and his stupid group and make love to him in the night? Do you want to kiss his lips and suck him hard and fast? I'm not a stupid person, Draco. I see things other people don't. I can see you don't really like what we're doing, despite what you want everyone to think. I can see you just want it to be like the old days, when everyone loved or feared you, and you and Potter could fight and be angry at each other. I can see you are bored with Umbridge and her plans, because you never really wanted it to be like this in the first place. And I can see you want another taste of that boy, because it's something forbidden, and you've always loved the forbidden fruit, haven't you, Eve?"

Draco began to wonder where it was along the line all his friends became insane, but then Blaise was running a tongue rough as a cat's along his jaw, and whispering frightening things.

"I know all these things," he uttered. "Because I am not a stupid person. Other people, they don't know shit, because they're stupid. Even you're too stupid to see. But I'm a smart person, and I know where to look for what people try to hide from themselves. I know these things, and when I tell other people, they'll see it too. Once you whisper the truth, Draco, people's eyes – they just start to _open_. I know you want to hide these things you think from the rest of your friends. That's alright, Draco, we all have our secrets. God knows we all have our secrets.

"But," he hissed viciously, biting at Malfoy's ear. Draco yelped in surprise, and Zambini growled. "But when you start opening up and letting all those secrets go free, you will find you won't much like where life will be headed. People are stupid, Draco, but once you start hinting at the truth they'll put two and two together, whether or not you want them to. And once people know the truth…well, things just fall apart. You wouldn't like that much, trust me you."

"Wh-what…" croaked Draco, throat dry with fear. Blaise cut him off.

"I'm only reminding you of this, Draco, because I, unlike most people, do want you to do well in life. But if you go about telling your secrets to people who don't care about you like I do, you'll find nothing will ever go back to normal.

"Now," he quipped, voice lightening dramatically. "Let's go back to our game. If I remember correctly, I was beating you and you were being rather sour about it."

And he roughly shoved Draco back into the other chair, and went about calmly resetting the board exactly as it had been. Draco stared at him half terrified, half shocked, and did not speak for several moments.

"Blaise," he coughed when his heart swelled down to its normal size. Blaise's eyes flashed up to him cruelly, as though warning him never to speak of the past few minutes ever again. Draco shut his mouth, and wisely decided to heed the warning.

~*~


End file.
